The Gravity in the Girl
by Jack E. Peace
Summary: “Look, Hodgins, feel free to leave at any time.” Angela informed him sharply. “I’d rather just be alone.” Set post "The Skull in the Desert"


**Disclaimer: Not mine. Title comes from the song "Gravity" by Sara Bareilles **

_A/N:_ Set post season-one episode "The Skull in the Desert" Just a bit of random drabble.

There was one light burning in the Jeffersonian that night, long after even Dr. Temperance Brennan had gone home for the night. Jack Hodgins, resident entomologist, noticed this as he slunk back to his office after hours to pick up the file he had promised Dr. Daniel Goodman he would take a look at ("high priority" had been his exact words) and had promptly forgotten on his desk. The building was eerily quiet around him, the sounds of his footsteps echoing against the empty examining tables; if Hodgins had been a man who spooked, he would have found this setting downright unnerving.

Yet, when he saw the light burning under the tightly shut door of Angela Montenegro he felt less alone. But then Hodgins promptly felt very curious because of all the people he suspected of staying late in the office, Angela was the last person on his list.

For a moment he hesitated, standing outside her door, folder and car keys in one hand and the other balled in a fist, preparing to knock on the door. Hodgins wasn't entirely sure that Angela would have appreciated the interruption. After all, she had clearly come to the Jeffersonian after midnight to be alone, not that he blamed her after what had just happened with…well, after what had just happened.

But Hodgins couldn't quite keep himself from knocking against the door, the sound echoing throughout the building like shots, loud enough to make him wonder just how hard he had knocked. Following the sound there was a heavy silence, the kind that only comes after a deafeningly loud noise as finished, and then rustling from behind the door.

The door swung open and Hodgins found himself face to face with the beautifully unique Angela Montenegro. He had always secretly considered her the cat among dogs, the flower amidst weeds, the one of them that didn't belong. She was always too sunny, too happy to sully herself with a place like this, with what they did. Of course, at the moment, she didn't look very sunny at all.

Brow knitting, Angela gaped at him, clearly surprised. "Hodgins? What are you doing here?" Her voice was almost harsh, something he never would have considered Angela capable of.

Almost defensively, Hodgins held up the thick manila folder. "Just getting some paperwork for Goodman." He raised an eyebrow, deciding not to be intimidated by someone who used the word "sweetie" in almost every sentence. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Angela sighed and seemed almost to deflate, exhaling any bit of anger or resolve out of her. She just looked sad and empty, like she had the day she and Brennan and Booth had come back from the desert where she spent three weeks out of every year with a man who had just turned up dead. Hodgins pursed his lips to keep from saying the barrage of stupid and sappy things he suddenly wanted to. "Just thinking." Angela turned away from the door and went back into her office.

Hodgins stood at the doorway and peered in after her. Only the lamp over her desk was once, washing over a spread of photos and sketches and crumpled papers. For a moment, he lingered where he was, watching her as she returned to her chair and sat down, her eyes fixed on some point in front of her, a million miles away. "Do you…want to talk about it…?" He took a tentative step forward and eased the door cracked behind him.

Almost as though she forget that he was there, Angela turned toward Hodgins in surprise. "There's nothing to say." She just felt empty and she wished that everyone could be like Brennan, who claimed understanding in social awkwardness, who pretended to respect her wishes to not talk about Kirk when really she didn't know what to say, because no one had ever said the right thing to her. And Angela didn't hold that against her friend and at the moment, she wished everyone could be like her.

But Hodgins didn't seem to believe that was case. He sat aside his folder and keys and drug a chair over to her desk, in spite of the incredulous look Angela gave him. "Is this about Kirk?" Stupid Kirk, he couldn't help but think even though it was bad to speak ill of the dead. Dumb Kirk who had the attention of a woman like Angela and was stupid enough to let it last for only three weeks. Hodgins hoped he was proud of himself now.

Again with the incredulous look. "Look, Hodgins, feel free to leave at any time." Angela informed him sharply. "I'd rather just be alone." She turned toward the pictures and sketches and tried to forget he was there in hopes that he soon wouldn't be.

However, Hodgins remained firmly planted at her side. "Look, of course it's about Kirk." Angela didn't look at him but he could see her eyes itching to glance in his direction, unable to ignore him as hard as she was trying to be mad. "I'm just…I'm sorry, Ange." Angela made a noncommittal noise, picked up a pencil and the tip stayed hovered over a blank sheet of paper. "He was a lucky guy."

Now she looked at him. "What? He was shot in the back of the dead by drug dealers." It was the first time she had said those words and they hitched in her throat. Her eyes burned and she scrunched her nose in an attempt to push them away; she would cry when Hodgins wasn't around to see her. "How can he be lucky?" But her voice cracked on the last word, betraying her.

Suddenly Hodgins wished he had never spoken. He wasn't very good at this consolation stuff. "Well he…got to spend three weeks every year with you." He explained even though he didn't want to be speaking anymore. "That makes him pretty lucky in my book. And…ya know…you let him…so…"

That was when Angela burst into tears, her shoulders slumping forward as she brought her hands up to her face. Hodgins' looked at her with wide eyes; he had never been what he would have considered a ladies man, but he'd had his fair share of girlfriends and considered himself to be an attractive and charming man. But he had never made a woman cry before. "Angela…" Hodgins put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry…I didn't…what did I say-"

But instead of being angry with him, Angela only shook her head. "I just…I feel so heavy…" She had stopped crying so hard now, just a bout of tears that had turned silent as she lifted her head to look at him. "And so empty at the same time. How can that happen? How can I feel _so _empty but too heavy to get out of bed." Hodgins only looked at her, tongue-tied when he knew, for the first time, that he really should say something. "I just…God I just miss him so much." He could hear the ache in her voice, the sheer exhaustion. "Fifteen weeks…and I feel like I can't breathe." She choked back a sob. "Like…" Angela exhaled, shaking her head. "Maybe if I had been there, maybe things…I should have been there…" Again she shook her head.

Surprising even himself, Hodgins grabbed her hands tightly. "No, don't say that." He insisted, causing Angela to gave him a stunned look. "Nothing you could have done would have saved him. It could have been worse…you could…" But he didn't want to think about that. "Look, Angela," he slackened his grip on her hands slightly, "I know that you're hurting right now, probably more than I can understand but…you're going to be all right. Everything will be all right." He spoke with as much assurance as someone who had never experienced death outside of the lab could do.

Angela's eyes were watery as she looked at him. "How do you know?" Nothing more than a whisper.

Hodgins tried to force a weak smile onto his face. "Because I know you, Ange. You have too much to give to just…not get out of bed in the morning." He gave her hand a squeeze.

Slowly, Angela tried to nod but Hodgins could see that her heart wasn't in it. "I just…I wanted to be enough." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Three weeks a year…is not enough." She shook her head. "I'm just sorry." More tears. "Sorry to him…for…not…" She sighed, that heavy, defeatist sound again. "I miss him, God, I miss him."

Almost hesitantly, Hodgins pulled Angela into a hug and she didn't resist, folding against him and pressing her face into his shoulder, staining his shirt with her tears. He wrapped his arms around her and held her in silence as she cried, unsure of what to say. "You're enough, Angela." He whispered finally, unsure of whether she heard him or not. "You're more than enough."

Eventually, Angela pulled away from him and gave him a hesitant smile, the sort of crooked gesture a person can only make after they've just cried in front of someone they never thought they would. Hodgins returned the gesture and kissed her on the forehead, squeezing her hand. "Sorry for the meltdown." Hodgins shrugged. "But thanks…" The smile was more sure now. "For listening. For…thank you."

And as Hodgins looked in those eyes, he saw that there was something more than sadness looking back at him, there was the glimmer of hope, of Angela's typical always sunny, perpetual optimist even when surrounded by death all day personality. And he fell in love.


End file.
